


Late

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Nightwatch (1997)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-23
Updated: 1999-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Confessions, consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

"You went too far."

Martin hurried to keep pace with James as they walked towards James's car, parked a few blocks from the restaurant.

"You scared her," Martin persisted when James didn't answer. "Didn't you see that? She was scared."

James stopped on the sidewalk and faced him. "She's a _whore_, Martin," he called out so the whole street could hear. "Men give her money to do whatever they tell her to." He resumed his walk and continued in a quieter voice, "She wasn't too scared to take my money."

Martin watched his friend. "You still went too far," he muttered.

They reached the car. James leaned against the passenger side door and lit a cigarette. Exhaling the first puff, he smiled and said, "You're just mad because you liked it. I saw you. Admit it."

_Yeah_, thought Martin, _you saw everything._ He didn't know whether to be more unnerved by the fact that James had obviously enjoyed watching Martin get a hand-job from the hooker, or by the fact that he had enjoyed James's enjoyment. It was something he didn't want to think about too carefully.

"For fifty bucks, I should hope she knew how to give a good hand-job," Martin said, reaching around James for the door handle.

James chuckled and blew smoke at Martin's head. He reached out and put a hand on Martin's arm. "The night's still young. Let's go find a bar."

"I have to go home and see Katherine before work." Martin gave James a pointed look. "You remember work? That thing I do to earn money for classes?"

"I can drop you off at work. You need a few stiff drinks before babysitting the corpses." James grinned at his bad pun.

"I have to see Katherine first," Martin stated firmly. The truth was, he was tempted by the idea of just hanging out in a bar with James and getting drunk. It was something they used to do all the time, but not much lately. Not since he'd met Katherine, and taken the job at the morgue.

James's smile faded and he unlocked the car door, tossing his cig into the gutter. He was behind the wheel before he said, "She has you whipped, man. You know that, don't you?"

Martin didn't say anything. He just watched the streets go by as James drove him home, and tried to blot out the remembrance of James's satisfied smile as he watched Martin reaching climax.

The car stopped. It took Martin a few moments to realize that they were nowhere near his apartment building. He looked around. They were somewhere in the city park. It was dark and deserted, and one lonely street lamp cast a small pool of light among the barren trees.

"Just take me home," Martin started to say, but when he saw the look on James's face, he stopped. It was the same look of confused anguish, and longing, that he'd had after that fight in the bar. With it came the same concern Martin had felt for his friend. James had always been the reckless one. He liked living on the edge and taking risks. It had always made him thrilling to be around. James made Martin feel truly alive. But ever since James had confessed to that deadness of spirit... Nothing had ever frightened Martin so much before.

"James?"

James shook his head slowly, removing the keys from the ignition and tossing them onto the dashboard. "What's the point? School, work, girlfriends -- is that all your life amounts to? 'Cause if it is, I want out. I need more." He retrieved a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it.

"You've always needed more," Martin said, voicing his thought aloud before he realized what he was saying. James glanced over at him.

"Yeah, I have." There was something about the way he said it that sent a chill down Martin's spine. It was too dark to see clearly, but Martin could feel James's look on him. With the chill came a slow, slithering burn. The 'more' was him. Martin had always known it without being conscious of knowing it. In fact, he'd relied on it without ever acknowledging it.

Now he felt uncomfortable being alone in the car with James. This was ridiculous, he told himself. James was his best friend. Why should he feel so uneasy? Because James needed him? Suddenly he remembered the strong warmth of James's hand on his cheek, that reassurance that they'd always be friends, always be close.

James had rolled down the window to let the smoke escape. It was cold in the car, and outside, the empty park was creepy. "It's getting late," Martin said to break the silence, but it didn't dispel the tension between them.

James stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it out the window. He grabbed the keys and Martin could hear them clink as James dangled them. "What if I toss these outside right now? What do you think our odds are if we try to walk home through the park?" Martin caught a flash of white teeth as James grinned at him.

"James," he growled good-humoredly, hoping this was just a joke. He made a grab for the keys. James laughed, clutching them in his palm, and Martin struggled with him, laughing, too.

Then it stopped. James was no longer laughing. He grabbed Martin's wrists and pulled him closer. Martin heard the keys thunk against the floor over the sound of James's breathing: heavy, becoming rapid. Before Martin could decide on a reaction, warm breath washed over his neck, jaw, and cheek, then tickled his ear. James's fingers were digging into his wrists, and Martin knew James must feel how his pulse quickened. Martin stayed still, and felt just the briefest, lightest touch against his cheek, just a whisper of warmth. Then cool air as James moved, a darker shadow in the dark car. He wanted to feel that touch again. He could barely stand it. He could sense James hovering close, almost close enough to kiss, but all he could feel were those fingers in a vice-grip around his wrists, holding on so hard.

He would give in. He knew it. Martin couldn't lie to himself. That brief touch was already haunting him, making his skin tingle from wanting more. He was about to whisper James's name, was stopped by another touch. Warm and moist and luscious -- James's lips on his cheek. A hint of rough stubble scraping as James kissed down to his jaw, then planted those firm, searching lips on his neck, parting them to lick, then suck, then bite. Martin moaned, an incredibly loud sound that filled the car, but he couldn't help himself.

Encouraged by the moan, James feasted on Martin's neck, moving to suck on his adam's apple, lick the hollow, bite the nape. James released Martin's wrists to run those strong hands over Martin's body, not hesitating to reach beneath Martin's shirt and touch his bare skin. Martin buried his fingers in the thick, soft waves of James's hair, panting and tilting his head back, offering more neck to those hungry lips.

James shifted to press awkwardly against him, and Martin felt an unmistakable hardness brush against his thigh. Just the thought that James could be hard, now, with him... He moaned again, silenced when James kissed him and filled his mouth.

The thought flitted through his brain: _I'm making out with James. My best friend. In his car._ Of all the strange experiences Martin had shared with James, this was maybe one of the strangest, but undeniably the best. The most natural. He devoured James's tongue with a hunger that surprised him, and tasted cigarettes and whiskey and something unknown yet familiar, James's distinct taste.

James fumbled for Martin's fly, unbuttoned and unzipped with swift, careful efficiency, and reached inside. Martin trembled and twisted his fingers in James's hair as James touched his cock, caressing the sensitive tip with warm, rough fingers. Martin felt fire rush to his groin and gather in his balls.

"Oh christ," he whispered, writhing beneath James's touch. James chuckled again and bit the sensitive skin just behind Martin's ear.

"Let's go to my place," James murmured.

Some stray thought nagged at Martin. Something about going home, work...; but it didn't make a lasting impression. The only things he could focus on were James's fingers teasing his cock and James's teeth nibbling at his skin. "Yeah, okay. Yeah," he said, breathless and a little dizzy.

***

James drove one-handed to his apartment. His other hand was busy with Martin's crotch, keeping him interested without letting him become _too_ interested. James didn't want Martin doing anything unfortunate, like coming in the car.

Half an hour ago, James had felt that familiar, dreaded desolation again. Sleepwalking through life, and never feeling alive. Now he felt brilliantly alive. And it was funny that he hadn't tried this earlier. Who knew Martin would be so receptive?

James never would've counted on it. He remembered only too well his last attempt at a pass. Junior year of college, after a night of beer and half-hearted cramming for a Sociology mid-term. James had suggested they take the edge off with some porn. His goal had been to get Martin drunk and horny and into his bed. But as soon as James had stripped out of his clothes, Martin had gotten cold feet. The next day, everything was back to normal. It was all forgotten.

Except it wasn't. James had never forgotten. He accepted it at first as Martin being scared. Then he unaccepted it for a while, because what in the hell did Martin have to be scared of. James was his best friend, not some low-life trying to seduce a naïve stranger. Finally, he accepted it again, grudgingly, and waited for another chance to try. James was not a guy who gave up so easily, and he was never going to give up on Martin. Martin was too important.

And now, suddenly, Martin was not only welcoming the seduction, he was eager for it. James ran red lights to get home. Neither one of them could wait much longer.

As soon as the door to James's apartment swung shut, they were grabbing each other, kissing and pulling at each other's clothes. James backed Martin up against the wall, kissing him deeply. He captured Martin's tongue with his teeth and teased it with bites as he sucked on it. Martin arched against him, his trousers falling down to his ankles and his erection almost bursting from his boxers.

James pressed Martin against the wall. He felt Martin's pulse racing in tempo with his own heartbeats. Every squirm of Martin's hips thrust them together. James slid his Jockeys down to free his rigid cock and grind it against the hardness in Martin's boxers. With a moan that vibrated into their kiss, Martin ground back against him, clutching James's shoulders.

James smoothed his hands down Martin's sides and into his boxers. He cupped his hands to Martin's ass, firm and warm and pliant under his fingers. As he kneaded and stroked, Martin's boxer shorts slipped lower and lower, and with a jolt of pure fire James felt Martin's bare cock touch his own.

He broke away from the kiss and watched Martin's face, wanting to memorize that expression of pleasure: eyes heavy-lidded, pupils dilated, nostrils flared, lips reddened and swollen from kissing. _He_ was doing this to Martin. _He_ was causing these reactions. The thought burned inside him, made his breath disappear for a split second, made his heart hammer.

Martin wasn't going to last much longer. James could tell by his labored breathing and incessant squirming. Wetness streaked along James's shaft where Martin's cock rubbed against it. James gave Martin a quick, soft kiss, then slid to his knees, squeezing Martin's ass and urging Martin's cock to his mouth. The strangled, "Ohhhh god, James..." that floated over him only intensified his desire. James licked and kissed and finally enveloped Martin's cock with his lips. Needing Martin's taste, and pleasure, and lust. Needing Martin...

***

James. James was sucking him off. Martin couldn't fathom it, because his brain had exploded sometime earlier, about the time James had knelt in front of him and touched Martin's cock with his tongue. Martin could only give in to sensation, reacting with primal need to every touch.

The hard wall against his back. The stale cigarette smell of James's apartment mingled with the rising scent of their musk. James's hands on his ass, fingers so strong, restlessly rubbing his flesh. But most of all, James's mouth on his cock, incredibly hot, wet, and hungry. Sliding down and around and up, sucking, licking, caressing. Martin looked down and the sight almost sent him over the edge: James's open expression of total enjoyment, total desire, as his lips glided over Martin's shaft.

_He's doing this. He's doing this to **me**. He **wants** me._ The thoughts tumbled through Martin's mind, driving his need. He buried his hands in James's thick, dark hair, tangling his fingers, and pressed James closer, pushing further into James's mouth. A subtle tremor vibrated around his cock as James moaned, eagerly demanding more.

The moan unhinged him. Martin gripped James's scalp and began thrusting, fucking that ravenous, wet mouth. One of James's hands released its grip on his ass. Martin looked down in time to see James grab his own cock and start jerking himself off. Martin arched, his head hit the wall with a thud, and his senses shattered into a billion fragments as he came, spasming and pouring into James's mouth.

He floated on the orgasmic high for a few moments, awareness returning with first a dull ache behind his eyes, then with a hot spurt against his leg. He glanced down. James was coming, his hand sliding and pulling on his cock as thick jets of cream pulsed forth. The sight sent another shiver of excitement through Martin's nerves, and his spent cock twitched against his thigh.

James's ecstasy subsided, and Martin sank to the floor. They sat in a mess of clothes and stickiness, silence punctuated by rediscovered breaths. James shifted to sit cross-legged, wincing as he moved his knees. Martin leaned against the wall, tilted his head towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He'd just had sex with his best friend. Really, really good sex. With James.

***

James watched Martin gradually relax. His mouth was filled with the sour aftertaste of Martin's come, and every intake of breath brought the thick scent of Martin's musk. He savored both as much as the sight of Martin, naked and sweaty, sitting on his floor. He'd finally had sex with Martin. Years of frustrated longing ended.

He felt lightheaded now. He slowly stretched out on the floor, on his back, knowing he should clean up the mess but not really caring. He'd closed his eyes and was almost drifting into a lazy, post-sex doze, when Martin's voice whispered into his ear, "Don't you have a bed?"

James opened his eyes, immediately wide awake. Bed? Was Martin hinting? Would he really come to bed with James? Could they do it again? James felt a tinge of interest in his cock. Yeah, they could.

"Yeah, I have a bed," he replied, returning Martin's welcoming smile. Impulsively, he reached to cup the back of Martin's neck, and brought him into a slow, warm kiss. Not like the fevered, desperate kisses of before. This one was careful, thorough, tender. James knew he was risking it, giving away too much and entrusting it to Martin. But he couldn't help himself. It was scary and liberating at the same time. It made him feel alive.

Martin drew back from the kiss, and for just a second, James knew the risk had paid off. That he'd been given as much as he had given himself. It gave him a strange, anxious feeling, and he shivered.

Martin propped up on one elbow, resting his head on his fist. "I've got about ten minutes to get to work. Think I'll make it?"

James grinned. "Not a snowball's chance in hell."

Martin laughed. "Guess I'll be late then." He reached for his boxer shorts.

James's grin faded, but he didn't feel empty. He was still filled with warmth. He knew the wait was worth it. He could wait again. He could wait for Martin.

***

Martin winced at the clock as he took his seat at the desk in the guard's booth at the morgue. He was really fucking late. That meant docked pay, and explanations to Katherine, who was probably already wondering where he'd been all evening.

"With James," he could tell her, with complete honesty. Well, maybe not _complete_ honesty. He considered that for a moment, realizing he was less bothered by the idea of lying to Katherine than he thought he would be. In fact, looking back, the only moment since they had left the restaurant that he could regret was when he'd had to say good-bye to James in the car. Too rushed and anxious about being late, he hadn't given James a last kiss. He hoped James understood.

He checked his watch, opened his textbook, read the same paragraph over four times, then leaned on his elbow, remembering every kiss and touch with James. 'I need him,' he thought, with a certainty he'd never felt before.

The wind smacking against the windows brought him out of his reverie. He glanced at his watch again. Time to make the rounds.

(the end)


End file.
